Chen Luzhou still had one hand lazily propped against the wall, while the other moved to grasp Xu Zhi’s chin. He gently lifted it, then lowered his head to capture her lips, nibbling tentatively as if teasing, or perhaps still finding his rhythm. It was reminiscent of playing with candles as a child – watching the flickering flame, reluctant to extinguish it, yet unable to resist the urge to do so. So, one might playfully blow softly, watching the light dance in the darkness, gauging the strength needed, then suddenly, when least expected, “puff” – a forceful blow.

Xu Zhi felt like that candle, the fire within her flickering, ready to ignite, her heart tingling with anticipation. Chen Luzhou kissed her lips briefly, then moved to her brow, her eyes, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth, that forceful blow still withheld.

Xu Zhi’s heart raced, pounding against her chest. Her arms around his waist tightened gradually. All she could hear was his deep, erratic breathing, along with the thunder rumbling in her ears. Her heart felt as if it might leap out of her throat.

“Did you miss me?” Chen Luzhou suddenly stopped, one hand on the wall, the other pinching her chin, squeezing it vengefully.

Xu Zhi’s mouth was pinched into a bird-like shape. Looking into his eyes, perhaps due to the dampness in the air, she found them both cold and scorching. She instantly understood he was asking about the first few months. “Yes,” she replied.

The teaching building was eerily dark. A window in one of the classrooms must have been left open, allowing wind and rain to gust in, knocking something over with a loud bang. Chen Luzhou instinctively glanced in that direction, making sure no one was there before turning back. His hand was still holding her cheeks, though with slightly less pressure. His thumb ghosted over her skin almost imperceptibly as he coolly scrutinized her. “Then why didn’t you call me even once?”

“I’ll tell you later. You haven’t told me everything either. Let’s exchange one secret for another-“

Before she could finish, he captured her lips fiercely, unhesitatingly pushing his tongue into her mouth. This intensity was unprecedented in its ferocity.

In an instant, the rain poured down heavily. The pitter-patter of raindrops occasionally punctuated by ominous claps of thunder, accentuated the fervent, passionate sounds of kissing in the pitch-dark stairwell.

The rain finally began to subside, the dense curtain of droplets becoming intermittent. However, after such intimate moments, both their gazes carried a hint of smoldering embers. As they gradually calmed down, their eyes met with a touch of awkwardness and discomfort, leading to a moment of wordless silence.

They sat on the last two steps of the staircase. The stairwell was in the blind spot of the surveillance camera. When they first entered, Chen Luzhou had glanced at the camera in the corner, then nonchalantly led her on a roundabout path to find that narrow corner that could barely accommodate two people. Now, however, they were directly facing the camera.

Xu Zhi extended her hand to Chen Luzhou. “Give me your phone. I want to check if the coffee I ordered a few days ago has arrived.”

During their kiss, Chen Luzhou had taken Xu Zhi’s phone and pocketed it.

Chen Luzhou, wearing a baseball jacket with the middle buttons undone, casually reached into his pocket and handed her the phone. “Is your Structures professor really that terrifying? Is it necessary to stay up so late every night?”

Xu Zhi glanced at him. “Mr. Popular, let’s not point fingers. You’re burning the midnight oil even more than I am. What’s up? Has the rat race among the provincial top scorers ended?”

“Not yet,” he chuckled. “Li Ke just called me twice, probably wanting me to join their Werewolf game. They always rope me in for games. He’s been following me to the library these past few days, always asking where I am after class, afraid I might be studying secretly on my own.”

“You two competed in high school, and now you’re still at it in university?”

“It’s not exactly that. It’s mainly the out-of-province students who are more competitive. It’s not about proving who’s better, but since the college entrance exams aren’t standardized across provinces, everyone wants to see where they stand among this group once there’s a uniform standard.”

Xu Zhi pondered thoughtfully, “I see. So unless you’re done competing, you’re not planning on dating?”

Chen Luzhou finally glanced at her, dropping a sardonic comment, “Weren’t you the one who said dating was boring, kissing was boring? Dating and kissing are boring, but kissing without dating is exciting?”

Xu Zhi responded with an “Oh,” resting her head on his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck. With a straight face, she proposed a new idea: “Kissing without dating is boring too. Maybe sex without dating might be more interesting.”

Chen Luzhou, sitting there, looked down at her head on his shoulder. Probably annoyed, he shrugged his shoulder deliberately to jostle her. His gaze fixed on the pitch-black corridor ahead, he warned in a cool tone, “Don’t push your luck.”

“Chen Luzhou, you’re so fucking boring,” Xu Zhi cursed bluntly, her head still resting on him as she checked her phone for package updates.

The rain had stopped as abruptly as it had started. The sound of raindrops outside had nearly ceased. Someone walked by with an umbrella. The two had been sitting on the stairs for almost half an hour. Perhaps due to the darkness, no one had looked inside. Occasional cicada calls could still be heard on campus, though their numbers were probably not even a fraction of those in Qingyi.

Chen Luzhou glanced down at her, noticing she was replying to a WeChat message from Jiang Yu. This was somewhat brazen, and he felt a bit irritated. He shrugged his shoulder again, trying to dislodge her. His eyes lowered, his tone neither warm nor cold: “You’ve got some nerve, leaning on my shoulder while texting another guy.”

Xu Zhi continued typing as she spoke, “Come on, didn’t you say before that you didn’t care about him? Chen Luzhou, you’re like a sour pickle.”

Chen Luzhou leaned back, his hands supporting him on the steps behind. Xu Zhi’s head slid from his shoulder to his chest. He looked down at her, chuckling self-deprecatingly, then averted his gaze. His eyes swept lazily around before he sighed and said sarcastically—

“He is pretty lame, and he is quite boring. He just wants to have a proper relationship with someone, but he knows that person likes excitement. He’s afraid that if they start dating, she’ll find him boring and break up after a few days. He has to think for ages before saying anything to her, worried that saying too much will annoy her, but saying too little will make her think he’s cold. He spends all day thinking about her, and she still finds him boring. Don’t you think Chen Luzhou is pitiful?”

Xu Zhi couldn’t help but laugh, lifting her head from his chest. “Is that really how you feel?”

He glanced down at her coldly. “Mm-hmm.”

Xu Zhi raised an eyebrow, smiling, “Well, why don’t we just stay like this forever? Seems pretty good to me.”

“Dream on.”

“I’ve realized you overthink things. Even if one day we did get together and break up like you said, think about it – you’d be Xu Zhi’s first ex-boyfriend. Isn’t that title pretty impressive?”

Chen Luzhou stood up, one hand in his pocket, pulling her up. He chuckled, “Sounds a bit more impressive than the class president or school heartthrob, I guess. After all, it’s the famously beautiful Xu Zhi we’re talking about.”

Xu Zhi stood on the step, looking at him. “Chen Luzhou, if you could speak without choking people to death, you might get a girlfriend.”

“I’ll change now, then.”

“It’s too late. You’ll just have to wait for the summons.”

*

Back in his dorm, Chen Luzhou took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. Wearing just a white sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, he leaned back casually, legs spread, balancing on the front two legs of the chair, absentmindedly spinning his phone in his palm. After contemplating for a while, he lowered his head and unlocked his phone to call Lian Hui.

She answered quite quickly, but both remained silent for about thirty seconds before Lian Hui spoke, her voice as gentle as ever,

“Are you very busy there?”

Chen Luzhou gave a noncommittal “Mm.” He leaned back in his chair, head lowered, his expression unclear. His roommate, wearing headphones and playing a game nearby, curiously glanced back at him, as this was the first time in over a month since the start of the semester that he had called home.

“You don’t need to send me money anymore. I’ll get scholarships,” Chen Luzhou said.

Lian Hui’s voice remained calm, “Whether you get scholarships or not is none of my business. Besides, even the highest scholarship at your school is only 15,000 yuan. How much will you have left after paying tuition? The court granted me custody of you, so I must support you. I’ll send the money, whether you use it or not is your choice.”

But in fact, Chen Luzhou hadn’t even brought the bank card she gave him; it was still in a drawer in his room. “Please don’t call Li Ke anymore. I’ll call you if anything comes up. That’s all.”

“Alright,” Lian Hui added, “I know you didn’t take that card with you. From now on, I’ll transfer money to your WeChat account every six months. Whether you accept it or use it is up to you.”

After hanging up, Chen Luzhou saw an uncollected transfer in his WeChat. Lian Hui was generous; the living expenses she gave him for one semester added up to nearly 100,000 yuan, even higher than the credit limit on the supplementary card he used to have in Qingyi.

He hadn’t even opened a local bank account yet. Fortunately, the school didn’t require cash, so he had been making do with Alipay on his phone these past few days. But he knew that if he didn’t accept it, Lian Hui would keep sending until he did.

“Are you aiming for a scholarship?” his roommate asked casually, still playing his game.

Chen Luzhou grunted in affirmation, leaning back in his chair, his broad back against it, holding his phone between his spread legs, head lowered as he clicked to accept the transfer on WeChat.

His roommate, still facing the game screen, said without turning around, “No wonder you’ve been working so hard lately. The scholarships at our school are pretty tough to get. You need at least a 4.0 GPA, and you can’t slack off in any subject. Plus, not every major has slots available. Our major might be even harder since we’re in the Humanities College and not one of the school’s key majors. For your friend Li Ke’s major, the top three in the major might be recommended for scholarships, but for us, you probably need to be first in the major.”

As they were talking, a message suddenly popped up on his phone.

Zhu Yangqi: “You bastard, you’re in Beijing???????????”

Zhu Yangqi: “You wait right there. I’m in a taxi now. Just wait, I’m coming to beat the crap out of you!!!”

*

Meanwhile, a message also appeared on Xu Zhi’s phone.

Tan Xu: “I’m in Beijing. Can we meet?”

Author’s Note:

This is the person who will genuinely make Chen Luzhou jealous. It’s probably the last minor climax of the entire story. After this, it’s all sweetness.